Losing You
by Flaming Trails
Summary: Forgotten Vows Verse: Part One. Victor thought life was going to be simple again once Emily was set free. Unfortunately, he thought wrong. The rest of the series will be set in the crossover section, under American McGee's Alice. Updated Blu-Ray edition!
1. A Quiet Evening

**Losing You**

A Corpse Bride Fanfiction

By Flaming Trails

Chapter 1

January 27th, 1875

Burtonsville, England

9:59 P.M.

Gradually, the last of the butterflies that had once been the corpse bride vanished from view, swallowed up by the velvet night sky. Victor and Victoria remained where they were for a long moment, gazing up at the moon in silence. Finally, Victor whispered, "Goodbye Emily."

Victoria looked at him, to the bouquet still held in her hands, then back at the moon. "Goodbye Emily," she echoed. "And thank you."

There was a dry cough from behind them. The couple turned to find Elder Gutknecht standing there, clutching the Wine of Ages and the goblet. "Well, my boy," he said, "it appears you have a few years left in this world yet."

Victor smiled and nodded. "Yes, it appears I do." Then the smile faded, replaced by his more customary worried look. "Is she – I mean, what just happened – I want to be sure–"

"She's happy," Elder Gutknecht told him. "A full explanation would take more time than I have, and I'm not sure it was ever meant for mortal ears. But she's free now – she's seen her murder avenged, and, more importantly, she's learned that love truly does exist. The poor girl has had her doubts over the years."

"I'm sure she has," Victoria said, frowning in sympathy. "Poor Emily. . .the look on her face when she saw Lord Barkis. . . . What will happen to _him_, by the way?"

Elder Gutknecht was a skeleton, and thus couldn't actually change his facial expression. Yet Victor was sure the Elder's permanent grin became, just for a moment, more of a smirk. "He's not going to enjoy his afterlife as much as we have, I can assure you of that."

Victor nodded, scowling. It wasn't in his nature to hate, but the revelation of what Barkis had done – along with his gut feeling that what had happened to Emily was undoubtedly what had been going to happen to Victoria – made him go against the grain. "Good."

"Yes," Victoria said, eyes narrowing. "I hope he has a lot of time to think about how he's hurt others. As unladylike as that may sound," she amended, turning pink with embarrassment.

Elder Gutknecht chuckled. "I won't tell anyone." He nodded at them. "I wish you both all the best."

"Thank you kindly, Elder Gutknecht," Victor said, smiling at the old skeleton. He'd become oddly fond of the fellow during his time in the afterlife. He'd become fond of all of the dead, really – everyone was just so friendly and welcoming. He was rather sorry to see them go, to be honest. "May we all meet again someday."

"You can be sure of that. Enjoy your life, Victor." He nodded again to Victoria, who dropped a polite curtsy. Then he turned and hobbled his way to the door at the back of the church. Green light spilled out as he opened it, and Victor fancied he could hear the others still chasing the unfortunate Lord Barkis. Then it all vanished as Gutknecht shut the door behind him. Deep in his gut, Victor knew that was it – that if he tried to follow the Elder, all he'd find was Pastor Galswells's personal quarters. This world and the next were separate once again.

Victoria stared at the door. "It doesn't feel real, does it?" she said suddenly. "I feel like any moment now I'm going to wake up and it'll all have been a fantastic dream."

Victor knew exactly how she felt. Part of him had been wondering the same thing all throughout his adventure. "I'm half-expecting to turn around and suddenly find myself on the floor of my bedroom because I rolled out of bed," he agreed with a chuckle.

The few remaining people in the pews were filing past them now, apparently ready to leave all this strangeness behind and get on with their normal lives. The last one out was Victoria's maid Hildegarde. "Miss Victoria, we must get home," she said, wringing her hands as she approached them. "Your parents must be in a frightful state."

"Yes, that's true," Victoria said, grimacing. "They did not take seeing Great-Grandfather Everglot well at all. I have to go home and let them know everything's back to normal."

"May I accompany you?" Victor asked, not ready to see her leave just yet. After all, he'd spent most of the day convinced he'd lost her forever to another man. "Surely it isn't right to let two women go out walking alone at this time of night."

Victoria smiled up at him. "I'd like that. And besides, you need to tell me everything that happened. How you met Emily, and why you decided to marry her."

"We'll need to walk slow, then," Victor said, offering his arm. Victoria took it, and extended her own arm for Hildegarde to lean on. "It's quite the tale. . . ."

He told them the whole story as they made their way back to the Everglot mansion, from feeling humiliated on the bridge after the disastrous rehearsal to deciding to give Emily the wedding she'd always dreamed of. The two women listened to him intently as he spoke. Almost too intently, Victor thought – he rather wished Victoria would say something when he talked about receiving Scraps, or watching Emily dance in the moonlight, or the piano duet. Her expression during those moments was hard to read. Not angry, he could tell that much, but very thoughtful. Which was almost worse. "And then – w-well, you were there to see us start to exchange our vows. . .and then Barkis arrived, and you know everything from that point," he finished, his free hand playing with his tie.

Victoria nodded, pressing her lips together as she contemplated his words. "You cared for her quite a bit, didn't you?" she asked. "When she dragged you out of my bedroom into the night, I was half-convinced you'd been captured by a demon – but it wasn't like that at all, was it?"

"No," Victor confirmed. "That mess was all my fault. I should have told her about you, about the arranged marriage, from the start. But first I was too much in shock, just trying to figure out what was going on. . .and then, after hearing what happened to her, I – I wanted to find a way to explain things to her that wouldn't completely break her heart. Which I ended up doing anyway. . . ." He sighed, feeling another stab of guilt for the way things had gone in Victoria's bedroom and Elder Gutknecht's tower. How could he have been so callous, so cruel? Especially after all Emily had already suffered? He was beyond lucky she had been willing to forgive him. "But yes, I did care for her. She really was a nice person, Victoria. I – I rather wish you had gotten to know her better. Under different circumstances, I think you might have liked her."

"So do I," Victoria agreed softly. "I feel guilty about thinking her evil now. From what I saw in the church, she was a truly lovely person. Who didn't deserve what happened to her in the slightest." She looked up at the moon. "I hope she's at peace."

"Elder Gutknecht seemed to think she is," Victor said. "And I'd trust him on these matters. He knows much more than we do about how it all works."

"I'm sure he does." Victoria patted his arm. "And I'm sure it's all worked out for the best."

Victor smiled at her. "Me too."

Victoria smiled back – then noticed they were standing in front of the doors to her house. "Oh dear," she sighed, playing with a loose rose petal. "I am not looking forward to this."

"Should I come in?" Victor asked, not sure if he wanted Victoria to say yes or not. On the one hand, he'd have more time with Victoria. On the other – he'd have to face her parents. "Try to explain myself?"

Hildegarde shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Master Van Dort. They're not exactly fond of you at the moment."

"I have to agree – Father would probably just call for his musket and not listen to a word you say," Victoria said, grimacing. "Let me have the night to calm them down, then tomorrow you can come over and we can all talk about this like civilized people."

"All right," Victor said, quietly relieved he did not have to see the disapproving glares of the Everglots again. "I suppose this is where we part, then."

Victoria nodded, slipping her arm out of his. "I'll see you in the morning," she said. "Hopefully things will be better by then."

Victor nodded back. "I wish you luck in talking to your parents." _You're probably going to need it_.

"Thank you – I'll need as much as I can get," Victoria replied, echoing his thought. "Sleep well." She gave him a warm smile. "We'll be together again very soon."

That was just what he needed to hear. Victor smiled back. "A good night to you, Victoria. And you too, Miss Hildegarde."

"Thank you, Master Van Dort," Hildegarde said, patting his arm. "Good night."

"Good night," Victoria said, giving his hand a final squeeze. Then she turned, took a deep breath, pulled open the door, and marched inside, obviously wanting to get her talk with her parents over with as soon as possible. Hildegarde followed her, giving Victor one last smile before closing the door behind her.

Victor lingered on the doorstep a moment, assuring himself that Victoria was safe inside and that she was no longer in danger from Bluebeard-like monsters. Then all the exhaustion and hunger and other unpleasant emotions he'd been doing his best to keep at bay finally caught up with him. Suddenly, the only things in the world he wanted were something to fill his belly and someplace to sleep, not necessarily in that order. Covering a loud yawn with his hand, he dragged himself across the square to his own house and opened the door.

It was dark and quiet inside the front hall. Victor fumbled around until he managed to light the candle kept by the door. Now where were his parents? The servants' absence he could excuse – they were probably still in a tizzy from what had just happened. But his mother and father seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. What could have happened to them? The only thing he was certain of was that they were not dead – otherwise, he would have seen them Below. _I should have asked Mayhew when I had the chance._

Right now, though, he was far too exhausted to ponder the question for long. Guided by the flickering flame of the candle, he forced himself up the stairs to his room. He took a moment to soak in the calming familiarity of it all – the pictures on the walls, the desk in front of the window, the metal-framed bed taking up much of the floor. Then he set the candle on his nightstand, took off his shoes, and flopped over onto his bed without even undressing. Within moments, he'd fallen asleep.


	2. A Less Than Quiet Morning

Chapter 2

January 28th, 1875

Burtonsville, England

7:23 A.M.

"WHERE IS THAT DRATTED SON OF MINE?!"

Victor jerked awake, nearly falling off his bed. "He's in a lot of trouble!" Nell's voice continued, booming through the floor. "How _dare_ he run off with another woman the day of his wedding rehearsal!"

Victor winced as he sat up. Oh dear – this was going to be fun. For a moment, he was tempted to hide in his room until someone else had told his mother all the details. But no – he knew he had to face the music himself. It wasn't fair to let Nell take out her anger on innocent servants. He put on his shoes and hurried downstairs, bracing himself to meet his mother's wrath.

Nell was in the front hall, glaring at all and sundry. Beside her, his father looked unusually disheveled, with hat askew, hair a mess, and mud on his suit. "I don't believe this!" Nell snarled as the maids backed away. "Our Victor – no better than a common rake!"

"Please, dear, I'm sure there's just been some sort of misunderstanding," William said, putting a hand on his wife's shoulder to try and calm her down. "Especially considering what we heard the town crier say."

"I certainly hope so! The alternative is too horrible for me to contemplate!" Nell spotted Victor standing in the doorway, fiddling with his tie. "You!" she snapped, pointing at him with her fan. "Where _have_ you been? And who was that tart who tried to drag you away from an excellent marriage?"

Victor felt a brief flicker of anger at his mother calling Emily a "tart," but reminded himself she didn't know any better. "It's – it's a rather long story, Mother, and q-quite a fantastic one at that. . . ."

"Victor, the town crier was crying about you eloping with a corpse earlier," William said, fiddling with the top of his cane. "There's not something we should, ah, _know_ about you, is there son?"

Victor frowned at him, baffled. What was his father getting at? Did they already know the story thanks to the crier? But no, not even that loudmouth could know everything –

And then it clicked. Victor's eyes went wide with horror. "No! Oh God no, Father! It's n-not like that at all!"

"She must be an ugly one, to make the town crier mistake her for a corpse," Nell grumbled, fanning herself.

"She wasn't ugly," Victor replied, feeling another slight burst of anger. "She _was_ a corpse, Mother."

"But you just said–" William started.

"She just happened to be up and walking about at the time."

Both his parents stared at him like he'd just said he was a chicken who laid chocolate eggs. "What?" Nell finally asked, arching an eyebrow.

"It's – it'll take some time to explain, and I'm famished. Could we perhaps discuss this over breakfast, Mother?" Victor pleaded.

"No, we'll discuss it now!" Nell snapped, still eying him strangely. "What do you mean, she was a corpse who was up and walking? Such things just don't happen, Victor!"

"Not normally, but – after the wedding rehearsal, I wandered into the woods," Victor started, putting a hand on the nearby wall to keep himself from swaying. What he wouldn't give for a chair right now. . . . "I thought I would have some privacy there to practice my vows. After a few tries, I finally managed to say them right, and. . . w-well, I slipped the ring onto what I _thought_ was just a hand-shaped branch. It turned out to be the skeletal hand of a murdered bride, who thought someone had at last come along to claim her in marriage. The next thing I knew, she'd clawed her way out of the ground and accepted my 'proposal.' I tried to run away, but she caught up and – and took me to the Land of the Dead."

His parents stared again. "The Land of the What?" William asked, blinking.

"The Land of the Dead. Downstairs. It's where people – and animals–" Victor added, remembering Scraps, "– go when they die. It's rather like the Land of the Living, only it's much more colorful and some of the people are s-skeletons." He found himself smiling as he thought of it. "And everyone's as friendly as can be. They welcomed me into their 'family' as soon as they met me. It didn't even matter that I was still alive, or that I was – less than happy to be there." He frowned as he remembered his behavior when he'd first woken up in the Ball & Socket. It seemed abominably rude now – in particular, the way he'd treated Emily and poor General Bonesaparte. At least they'd seemed to understand that he'd been frightened out of his wits. And judging by Bonesaparte's casual attitude toward being grabbed, it hadn't been the first time he'd been wielded along with his sword. A sudden image of Bonesaparte being used as a weapon by his friend General Wellington popped into his mind, making Victor force back a giggle.

"He's gone mad," Nell whispered, eyes wide over the top of her fan. "He's lost his mind."

"What?!" Oh no, that wasn't the impression he'd meant to give at all! "No! I–"

"Victor, you're talking nonsense," William said in a soothing tone of voice. "There's no such thing as the Land of the Dead. There's Heaven, and then there's Hell."

"No, Father, it exists!" Victor insisted. "I've been there! Alfred Carter was down there – Mrs. Carter's husband! He's just a skeleton with a mustache and a suit now, but it was him! And Scraps was there too! Emily gave him to me as a wedding present!"

"Emily?" Nell said, voice sharp. "Is that your other woman?"

"That was the _bride_, yes," Victor snapped, starting to get a little irritated. "Emily – um – j-just Emily."

"You don't even know her last name?"

"She never told me," Victor confessed, blushing. "I guess she didn't feel the need. Maybe because she thought we were m-married, and thus her last name would have been Van Dort."

"Victor, really," William said, voice still gentle. "Your dog couldn't have been in the afterlife. Animals don't have souls."

"He _was_, Father," Victor replied with a frown. "I know he was. I saw him."

"So you're saying no one in the church knows what they're talking about when they say animals can't follow us to the afterlife? And that there's no other afterlife besides Heaven and Hell?" William asked, turning from soothing to severe. "That's sacrilege, Victor."

Victor hesitated, not sure what to say. His father was technically right – he'd grown up being taught animals didn't have souls, and that there were only two places to go after one died. To go against that felt – weird. But he'd seen differently with his own two eyes! How could he deny the evidence of his senses? "Maybe they are wrong," he said, folding his arms. "Maybe Catholicism is the one that's got it anywhere near right with Purgatory. The Land of the Dead could be that. A place for people to ready themselves and take care of final business before moving on properly. Or it could be something entirely different. I don't know. I just know what I saw."

"Victor!" William gasped.

"I can't deny what I experienced, Father! I'm not saying Heaven and Hell don't exist, I'm just saying there's something else as well. I _am_ saying animals can enter that land. It was _Scraps_, Father. Yes, he was nothing more than a s-skeleton, but he had the same bark, the same way of jumping into people's laps – he even still had the collar I got for him!"

"Forget your stupid dog for the moment," Nell said, waving her hands. "I want to know more about this supposed bride. So you don't know her last name. What _do_ you know about her?"

"That she was murdered by the man she meant to elope with," Victor replied quietly. "None other than Lord Barkis Bittern, in fact."

"Lord Barkis? That big-chinned fellow who showed up at your rehearsal?"

"Yes," Victor nodded. "In the past, he courted Emily, and convinced her to elope with him when her father didn't approve of the match. And then he – he k-killed her to steal the gold and jewels he told her to bring." His heart ached just thinking about it. Poor sweet Emily, all alone under the oak tree, waiting impatiently to begin a new life with the man she loved. . .and then, out of the shadows appears a monster wearing that man's face. . .and before she can do anything but scream, everything goes black. . . . _Oh dear – now I'm sorry you've moved on, Emily,_ he thought, wrapping his arms around himself._ I want so much to give you a hug._ "After she died, she vowed to wait for her 'true love' to come and ask for her hand."

"And that was you, was it?" Nell asked, in such tones of derision Victor felt like he'd been slapped.

"I don't know," Victor admitted. His feelings on the matter were very confused. He'd spent most of his time with Emily trying to get away from her and thinking about Victoria, yes, but. . .he hadn't been able to tell her straight out that he was promised to another, for fear of breaking her heart. He hadn't been able to hate her, even after she'd torn him away from everything he'd ever known. He'd felt horrendously guilty for deceiving her, for hurting her. He'd been mesmerized by her dancing, her smiles, her giggles. The piano duet they'd shared had been magical – he'd never seen such enthusiasm for anything in a woman – in _anyone_ – before. Not to mention it was the only time he'd ever played _with_ anyone. . . . And when he'd said, "I would never marry you," every atom of his body had rebelled, had wanted to yank back the words – because they simply weren't true. Goodness, even when he'd discovered marrying Emily properly would require his death, he hadn't felt any real hesitation to do it. Partly because he believed Victoria was lost to him forever, yes, but also because he couldn't see death with Emily as being a bad thing. All throughout the wedding preparations, he'd been thinking about what his afterlife with his new wife might be like, and the scenarios he'd come up with had filled him with much the same warmth as thinking about life with Victoria had. If Victoria hadn't been in the church, if Emily hadn't seen her. . . . "All I know is that I woke her up. For whatever reason, she was able to accept my proposal, accidental as it was."

"So if you're married to a dead girl, then where on earth is she?" Nell demanded, looking around. "Show us this mysteriously-walking corpse, Victor. Or have you got her up in your room? Stuffed into your wardrobe because she wanted to put on a day dress?"

"No! Look, it's all terribly complicated – you know how a marriage is considered 'until death do you part?' Death had already parted us. If we were to really be married, I had to–" Victor fidgeted, not wanting to say the actual words. "W-well. . . ."

William's jaw dropped. "You agreed to _kill yourself_?"

"I thought there was nothing left for me up here," Victor mumbled, looking away as he pulled on his tie. "Mayhew told me Victoria was getting married to another. You _do_ know what happened to Mayhew, right?" he added, glancing back at his parents.

"Of course we do – we found his body on the road after your father had to take the reins," Nell replied, quite callously in Victor's opinion. "Sad business, I must say – bad way to die. And extremely inconvenient." She shot her son a nasty look. "But we heard that news too! The Everglots tried to marry her off to some wealthy newcomer, all because you disappeared!"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Victor said, wincing. "I never wanted to see Victoria – er, Miss Everglot – marry someone else. Especially not Lord Barkis."

"Lord Barkis?! So she's Lady Bittern now? Victor, you've really–"

"She's Widow Bittern," Victor cut in, holding up his hands. "They ended up at the church when Emily and I were saying our vows again–"

"So now _they_ visited this Land of the Dead?" Nell asked, incredulous. "Can just anyone go down there whenever they like?"

"Mother, please," Victor begged. "I know it's all very hard to understand, but I'm trying my best. But no, the ceremony had to take place in this world. Emily saw Victoria watching us and stopped me from drinking the poisoned wine because she didn't want her to suffer like she had. Lord Barkis barged in to reclaim Victoria as his bride, and after a struggle between us – in which Emily recognized him as her murderer – he ended up drinking the wine."

"So – he's dead now?" Nell said, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Yes," Victor nodded. "Dead and gone." _And good riddance,_ he thought bitterly. _I hope Mrs. Plum is using that fork to better effect than I did._

"All right. And this Emily person – let's humor you and say she's real. Is she still around? Are you engaged to any other girl except the one we picked for you right at this moment?"

"No," Victor said, shaking his head. "Emily's – moved on. And I assure you, I don't have any secret g-girlfriends about."

"None at all?"

"None. I promise, Mother."

"Good!" Nell snapped her fan shut. "That's all I wanted to know. We may be able to salvage this yet. We'll have to get on our hands and knees, no doubt, and you'll probably have to wait a year for the girl, but I can live with that, I suppose." She turned toward the door. "Let's go see the Everglots and–"

"Please, Mother, I'm _starving_," Victor begged, clasping his hands. "I haven't had anything to eat for at _least_ a day. May we please have breakfast first?"

"The Everglots are most likely having their morning meal now too," William told his wife. "We shouldn't interrupt. And I could do with a good cup of tea myself."

"Oh, all right," Nell said with a deep sigh. "But straight over afterward!"

* * *

Breakfast was a surprisingly quiet affair. Normally Nell went on and on about all the things that needed to be done and all the important people they had to visit, but today she seemed to realize the fastest way to get her husband and son out of the house was to let them get on with the business of eating. Victor inhaled his food, beyond grateful to have something he could eat set in front of him. The residents of the Land of the Dead were some of the kindest, most generous people he'd ever known, but they weren't exactly the best at cooking for living guests. He repressed a shudder as he remembered asking about the gigantic wedding cake on their way to Elder Gutknecht's, and having Mrs. Plum reply that it had only come together when they'd put her assistant's nose in. _Perhaps I would have gotten used to it – after about fifty or so years down there._

After he'd eaten his fill, Nell hurried him and his father into their carriage. Victor thought it might be faster just to _walk_ across the square, but didn't dare argue with his mother. She was in a real mood, glaring at everyone and constantly snapping her fan open and shut. If this didn't work out the way she wanted, Victor knew, life at home was going to be downright hellish. _At least I know that Victoria's on my side,_ he thought. _I certainly hope her talk with her parents went better than mine!_

They arrived at the Everglots and popped Nell out of the carriage in tense silence. "I do hope they're still willing to consider you," Nell finally said as they ascended the front steps. "Do you always have to make such a mess of things, Victor?"

"I didn't mean to, Mother," Victor sighed, looking at his feet. "Do you think I wanted to raise the dead?"

"Don't even start." Nell rang the bellpull, sending a sonorous "booom" into the morning air. "Ugh, we go to all this trouble to get you a good, society-approved bride, and you have to ruin it by running off with some silly woman who's already been jilted by another man."

Victor's hackles rose. "Emily was–"

"What did I just say about not starting?" Nell rang the bell again, frowning. "Goodness, they could at least answer their door!"

"Maybe they're out?" William said, leaning on his cane.

"Where would they be right after breakfast?" Frustrated, Nell rapped hard on the front door. "Now see here, we're not–"

She stopped dead as the door creaked open under her fist. For a long moment, the three of them just stood there, eyes fixed on the dark crack. Then Victor darted forward, pushing past his mother and throwing the door wide.

The entrance hall was in complete disarray – table and chairs upturned in front of the dying fireplace, smashed plates and uneaten food littering the floor. Victor left it for his parents to investigate and raced up the stairs, where he knew the bedrooms were. "Lord Everglot? Lady Everglot? Victoria?!"

No one answered his cry. Heedless of the rudeness of his actions, he wrenched open the doors of the various upstairs rooms. The bedrooms looked like disaster zones, with wardrobes hanging open and leftover clothes lying abandoned on beds and floors. A few vases lay shattered on the threadbare carpets, and in the upstairs hallway, a couple of paintings had been knocked askew. But there was no sign of any people. "Victoria?!" he cried again. "VICTORIA?!"

No answer. Just silence and emptiness all around him. Victor returned to the top of the stairs, where his parents were taking in the scene with wide eyes. ". . .they're gone."


	3. Things Get Worse

Chapter 3

January 28th, 1875

Burtonsville, England

10:22 A.M.

"EVERGLOTS FLEE TOWN! LOCAL NOBLES DISAPPEAR IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! VAN DORTS IN A TIZZY OVER FAILED ENGAGEMENT!"

_At least _someone's_ having fun with that information,_ Victor thought, glaring out his window at the town crier before resuming his pacing. _He'll have headlines for days because of this. He must feel like Christmas has come early._

Victor himself was worried half to death. The sudden disappearance of the Everglots had shaken him to his core. Where were they? Why had they run? Was Victoria all right? Had she gone willingly with her parents, or been taken by force? Most importantly, how was he supposed to find her? _This isn't right,_ he thought, scowling at the ceiling. _After all that's happened, we should be together. Goodness, it was practically Emily's last request! That poor woman sacrificed her happiness for Victoria's – the least You could do is make that sacrifice worthwhile!_

The sound of the front door opening alerted him to the fact that his parents were home. He hurried downstairs to meet them. "Any news?" he asked, fiddling with his tie.

"None," William said, looking just as frustrated as Victor felt. "We've asked all over the town – not one person saw them leave. They must have fled after everyone else fell asleep. No one has any idea where they might have gone, either."

"They can't have vanished into thin air!" Nell snapped, stabbing the air with her fan. "Don't they have land? Other houses?"

"Yes, but which one would they have gone to? If they went to any of them at all?" William replied. "It could be they're staying at hotels."

"Why stay at a hotel when you've got a great huge house in the country?" Nell jabbed William in the side. "You're going to find them if it's the last thing you do! I am not letting our best opportunity to become important slip through our fingers!"

"Don't worry, dear – I don't intend to let that happen," William assured her. "We'll hire the best private detective I can find to search for them."

"Hire two!" Nell glared at Victor. "You and your other woman! If you hadn't decided to sow your wild oats at the last possible moment–"

"I wasn't sowing any oats! I woke Emily up by accident!" Victor said, gripping his tie like a lifeline.

"You're still sticking to that ridiculous 'dead bride' story? Are you that desperate we not find out who your secret lover really is? She must be from a very poor family."

"Mother, Father, didn't you ask anyone about what happened last night?" Victor asked, feeling a fresh surge of irritation.

"Only if they knew where the Everglots had gone," William answered.

"Well, ask them what happened in the church. Almost the entire village was there to see me nearly marry Emily. From what I understand, the arrival of the dead caused a bit of a fracas, in fact. . . ."

"Oh, so your new 'friends' caused mayhem and destruction while preparing for a wedding? Why am I not surprised," Nell said, rolling her eyes. "Perhaps that's why the Everglots left – they didn't want to be associated with such uncouth behavior."

Victor was about to protest when he realized that his mother might actually be onto something. What _if_ the dead rising was responsible for the Everglots' departure? He hadn't heard much of what had happened when they'd all gone Upstairs – _he'd_ appeared right outside the church with Elder Gutknecht, and by the time the parade arrived everyone was eager to get to the ceremony – but from what he'd caught as everyone filed in, the Dead had frightened a number of the villagers half to death. What if they'd never made up with the Everglots, showed them that they weren't dangerous monsters? And when Victoria came home. . .he winced. "They didn't – I didn't–"

"Oh, hold your tongue," Nell snapped. "I shouldn't be surprised that you ruined everything. We should have skipped the rehearsal and just gone straight to the wedding."

"Without Victor knowing his vows?" William asked, frowning at her.

"Even him making a fool of himself in the church would have been better than this!"

There was a sudden sharp rap at the door. The three looked toward it, puzzled. "Now who could that be?" Nell grumbled. "BARRY!"

Barry, their butler, hurried in and opened the door to reveal Pastor Galswells, glowering at the world as usual. "Pastor!" William said with a grin. "What brings you by? We didn't find you at the church earlier. Can we offer you some refreshment?"

"I'm not here on a social call, Mr. Van Dort," Pastor Galswells boomed. "I'm here to talk to you about a most grave matter concerning–"

His eyes found Victor, who was watching the pastor nervously. He glared and pointed with his holy staff. "Your devil-worshipping son!"

"Our _what_?" Nell gasped, almost dropping her fan.

"I'm _what_?" Victor stared at the pastor in confusion. "Sir, are you all right?"

"Yes, and no thanks to you! Your son has been consorting with demons, Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort! He has been making unholy alliances with the evil undead!"

_Oh God._ "Pastor Galswells, you can't be t-that upset about one man telling you to keep it down in your c-church," Victor said, trying to defuse the situation.

"Man? You call that _creature_ who spoke to me a man?!" Pastor Galswells jabbed his stick at him. "Your son's soul is tainted, Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort! He is one of the damned!"

"Pastor Galswells, please–"

"What are you saying?" William said, his mouth hanging open slightly. "Our Victor? _Damned_? Don't you think that's going a bit far?"

"No! Not after what happened last night! That boy of yours called upon the powers of darkness to help unite him with a dead woman!"

Now Nell's jaw dropped. "She _was_ a corpse?!"

"Yes! They all were! Horrific visions of rotting flesh and crumbling bones! And your son dared to make profane the sacrament of marriage with one!"

"_Victor!_" Nell whipped around to face him, looking horrified. "How could you?! A corpse? In a _church_?! Did everyone see this?"

"The whole village," Pastor Galswells said, lip curled in disgust. "He had them under a spell of sorts, to stop them from–"

"It wasn't a spell!" Victor shouted, now out and out angry. How dare Pastor Galswells accuse his friends of being evil? "They just recognized that the dead meant them no harm! They were our friends and loved ones! Didn't you see anyone you knew in life?"

"All I saw were the legions of Hell invading my church at _your_ command!" Pastor Galswells yelled back.

"They were _not_ the legions of Hell! Pastor Galswells, please, you've got to understand–"

"I understand enough already! You are one of the fallen! One destined for Hell since his birth! And now you've turned to harassing God-fearing people with your devil-given powers! And trying to pervert the sacraments of the church for your own ends! I'm glad the Everglots fled this corrupted town, rather than send their daughter into a lifetime of horrors with you at her side!"

Victor just shook his head, completely lost for words. What could he say to this – this _madman_? He turned toward his parents, desperate for help. _Please, Mother – for once, put your stubbornness and love of arguing to good use!_

Nell, however, was looking at him like he was something Scraps had done on the carpet. "You tried to marry a corpse," she said, shaking her head. "Where did we go wrong with you?"

"Now, now, I think everyone's overexcited," William said, holding up a conciliatory hand.

"It is hard not to be overexcited, Mr. Van Dort, when you've realized the son of one of the wealthiest people in town is evil," Pastor Galswells intoned. "I don't blame you or your wife, you understand. You cannot control these things, no matter how much you try. If one is destined for damnation, it always shows itself sooner or later."

"Yes, yes, of course," William said soothingly. "But could you give us some time to talk to Victor? He _is_ our son."

"You'd be better off disowning him and sending him far away, where his evil cannot hurt so many," Pastor Galswells replied, voice cold.

"We'll see," William said, guiding the pastor back through the front door. "But I don't want to give up hope just yet. Flesh and blood, you know, heh heh. . . ."

Pastor Galswells rolled his eyes. "Very well. But don't complain to me when he ruins everything you hold dear."

"He's already done that," Nell snapped, still glaring at Victor. "He can't do much more damage."

"Don't be sure of that! Watch him every moment! And whatever you don't, don't let him anywhere near those woods!" Pastor Galswells stabbed a long finger at Victor. "Enjoy your time on this earth, Master Van Dort! For when you die, you will get what's truly coming to you!"

With that, the pastor whirled around in a flurry of sacramental robes, marching down the street. William closed the door after him with a deep sigh. "Oh dear, this is just what we need," he mumbled, then looked over at Victor, disappointment etched into every line of his face. "You told us it wasn't like that, son."

Victor's jaw dropped. "What – I – it's _not_!" he cried, flinging his arms wide. "Father, I swear to you, I – I'm not–"

"He said you made profane the holy sacrament of marriage," William said. "That doesn't suggest good things, Victor."

"_I'm not a necrophiliac!_"

Victor jumped at how loud his voice had become. He hadn't realized he was shouting again. He was just so stunned at how quickly things were spiraling out of control. . . . He forced himself to lower his voice. "He's merely talking about how I wanted to marry Emily – just m-marry. There wasn't a w-word said about c-c-con-consummation." Which was a good thing, Victor realized – if Emily had started talking about the wedding night. . .especially _before_ he'd agreed to kill himself. . . . Suddenly he very much wanted a chair.

"But you still admit to dragging a corpse into a church and declaring you wanted to marry it!" Nell shrieked, pointing at him with her fan. "All these years, I thought you were afraid of everything. . . ."

"Mother, I – dragging?" Victor's eyes widened. "You can't still – Mother, _Pastor Galswells himself_ just told you the dead rose!"

"At your command! Obviously you scared the poor man literally out of his wits by digging up half the village graveyard to attend your 'wedding!'"

"Be reasonable, Nell – if he'd dug up that many graves, he wouldn't have had time to set things to rights before we came home," William said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"All right, perhaps," Nell allowed. "He must have just had the one and told Pastor Galswells the others were coming. The shock of seeing our Victor hand in hand with a moldering corpse must have made the man snap. Always seemed a bit on the edge to me, poor fellow."

This was mad. This was completely and utterly mad. Victoria was gone, Pastor Galswells thought he was the child of the devil, and his own parents still refused to believe that last night had actually happened. "Ask the others in the village then!" he begged. "Please! They'll tell you all about it!"

"All they'll tell us is the same thing Pastor Galswells told us – you tried to marry a corpse," Nell said, waving her fan as if to get rid of a bad smell. "Talking to a dead body as if it were really alive. . .how long has that been going on, Victor? Do you regularly visit the village graveyard to have a chat with your friends? Someone said that the earth on Mr. Elfman's grave looked disturbed last week – did you dig him up because he asked you for a bit of fresh air?"

"No! This – I–"

"This is _your_ fault," Nell added, glaring at William. "I know mental illness doesn't run in _my_ side of the family!"

"It doesn't in mine either," William snapped back. "None of my family have ever claimed that dead people can get up whenever they like. Victor's. . . ." He glanced at his son, then sighed again. "I never thought it might happen to us. . . ."

No. He could not let them think this. He could not let them believe he'd lost his mind. "Barry!" Victor cried, seizing the butler's arm as he tried to slip away. "Please, Barry, you were there, weren't you? At least you must have seen the dead walking through the streets! Tell them it happened! P-please!"

Barry looked at him – and to Victor's shock, he saw fear in the older man's gaze. "I – the pastor said – I wasn't at the church," he whispered. "All I know is that you tried to commit suicide for a corpse. . . ." Barry's eyes flicked to the elder Van Dorts. "I don't know anything, sir, ma'am. I don't."

Victor stared at the butler for a moment. Then he released him and moved back a step. Was – was it going to be like this all throughout the village? Would the others be intimidated into believing Pastor Galswells's version of events? Would they agree that he was an evil being who'd brought the dead back for some sinister purpose? Or would they be more like his parents, and convince themselves none of it had happened? If there was one thing Victor knew about Burtonsville, it was that it loathed excitement. And having to acknowledge that the dead had risen was definitely excitement.

"Now, really, Victor," his mother scolded. "Keep scaring the servants like that, and they'll all quit their positions."

"We can get you help, son," William said, reaching out to touch his arm. "Someone to talk to, show you how such things just cannot be–"

Victor pulled away from his father and darted up the stairs, running back to his room. He locked the door behind him, then fell onto his bed. _This isn't happening,_ he thought. _This is all a dream. Some horrible nightmare I'll wake up from soon. And then my parents will be waiting for me downstairs again, and I'll explain, and this time the villagers will speak up and they'll _believe_ me and Victoria will be at her home ready to try our wedding again –_

"PASTOR GALSWELLS DECLARES VAN DORT BOY DAMNED! MASTER VAN DORT CONSIDERED EVIL INCARNATE!"

Victor forced himself to get up and go to his window. Down in the square, the town crier paraded around, ringing his bell and spreading this latest bit of news far and wide. The people in the square looked at him, then over at the Van Dort house. Their expressions, from what Victor could see, appeared to be mingled worry and fear. Victor turned away, resting his head against the nearby wall. _They'll never speak up for me – not now. Everyone's too scared of Pastor Galswells – and even if they weren't, Mother would never listen anyway. I'm – I'm alone._

He remained where he was for a moment, just staring into space. Then, slowly, he clasped his hands and turned his gaze to the ceiling once more. _Please, God,_ he prayed, closing his eyes. _Please let us find the Everglots – and quickly. I need Victoria back in my life. If only because she's the only one who understands anymore. Please – bring her back to me._


	4. Discovery

Chapter 4

March 11th, 1875

Burtonsville, England

6:29 P.M.

The end of January passed in a blur of activity, with Victor's parents working hard on plans to discover the location of the vanished Everglots. It amazed Victor that, even convinced that her son was mad enough to believe corpses could walk and talk, Nell was still determined to have her high-society match. The elder Van Dorts consulted with the best private detectives money could buy, making lists of possible locations and talking about things like how many houses the Everglots had and what could they do if the nobles had left the country entirely. Victor, not having much to add to the discussion, hung around and listened to whatever news the men brought back from their search – which was usually something along the lines of "no luck here – sorry." February dragged on with the entire family locked into a state of nervous anticipation, waiting and wondering if the lost nobles would ever be found.

Victor, however, had much less time to wait and wonder than his parents. After the fiasco with Pastor Galswells, William had also started hiring psychiatrists to "have a look at you and see what's wrong." Victor had tolerated the first one, an elderly man named Dr. Wilson who'd recently retired from a long career at Rutledge Asylum. Dr. Wilson seemed to have a knack for making people open up, and, after some initial reluctance, Victor had told him the whole story. The man had seemed fascinated by Victor's account of the Land of the Dead, asking all sorts of questions and taking copious notes. He'd even laughed along with Victor at some of the funnier parts. He hadn't believed Victor, of course – Victor hadn't expected him to. It was too much to ask that someone who hadn't been there would believe the tale, especially since he could no longer depend on the rest of the village to back him up. But Dr. Wilson also didn't accuse him of being completely deranged. In fact, his final report to William and Nell had stated that he thought Victor's "hallucinatory episode" was completely harmless. "Yes, I agree his insistence on it all being real is unusual," he'd admitted. "But he shows no signs of any other mental imbalance. He certainly doesn't think just any corpse can rise from the earth. I think what happened was a result of extreme stress over his arranged marriage. Imagining a 'corpse bride' and going through a couple of 'practice weddings' helped him work through some of his fears. Now that those fears are gone, there's no further reason for the construct. My professional opinion is to just leave the issue alone – he's not hurting anyone, and I can't see him bringing it up in casual conversation. He's quite well enough to function as a normal human being. Rutledge sent a number of patients back into the world in worse states than him."

Nell had promptly told the doctor he had no idea what he was doing and thrown him out. The following professionals were a lot less forgiving of Victor's "delusions," and after the fourth had told him that he might be cured via electric shocks, Victor had refused to speak to any of them. The whole business infuriated him, to be frank. He _knew_ he wasn't insane – why couldn't he convince his parents of that fact? At the very least, why couldn't they have just accepted Dr. Wilson's diagnosis and left him alone? All this endless parade of psychiatrists was doing was wearing on his already-frayed nerves.

On top of everything else, Pastor Galswells had not let up on the whole "damned" business. He seemed to consider it his right to spread the news that Victor Van Dort was an evil necromancer destined for Hell across the entire country. Victor hadn't been allowed into the church since the pastor's visit to the Van Dort mansion. Victor didn't really care about going – he could pray in his room without being harangued – but the rest of the village certainly did. People started avoiding him in the streets, looking away if he tried to make eye contact and returning his greetings with only the briefest of nods. A few had even accused him of trying to drag the whole village down into the depths of Hell. It seemed that most of the villagers were far more inclined to believe the Pastor Galswells version of events than what they themselves had experienced. And that was even more infuriating than what his parents were doing. William and Nell at least had the excuse of not having been in town when the dead rose. But Victor had seen all these people enter the church, arm in arm with their dead loved ones. How could they turn around and say Victor had been raising demons to witness his unholy union to a corpse? To Victor, it felt like a slap in the face – not to him, but to the Dead Downstairs. How dare the villagers accuse their own friends and relations of being devils? Especially after the Dead had been so happy to see them? It turned his stomach to think of how his friends Below would feel if they knew what was happening Above.

What kept him going through it all was the hope that he'd see Victoria again. That they'd find the Everglots, convince them that the marriage was still a good idea, and get their permission for him to take their daughter for his wife. He often thought about what married life with her would be like. They'd have a house far away from everyone, where they could live in peace and quiet. He'd teach her how to play the piano, so he could have a memory of sharing a duet with her too. They'd talk about their lives, sharing stories from their childhood and wondering how on earth people like their parents could have ever produced people like them. He'd tell her all about the Land of the Dead, and she'd believe him and tell him it sounded like a wonderful place to spend the afterlife. He'd draw and she'd sew and they'd be happy. And when they had children, they'd name their firstborn daughter Emily, to honor the woman who'd died so unfairly and sacrificed so much for them. Imagining that life, that peace, helped him keep his sanity, even as it made him more and more anxious to find out where the Everglots had gone.

"Where is that man?"

Victor looked up from his biscuit to see his mother scowling at the sitting room door. "It's not like William to be late! Terribly rude of him! Not something that would be tolerated in the upper classes at all!"

"I'm sure he has a good reason," Victor said, although in fact he was wondering the same thing. William Van Dort was the most punctual person Victor knew. Not to mention he loved his six o'clock tea. Him not being here already was odd.

Nell let out a "hmph." "He had better. Otherwise, he's going to get an earful and no mistake. Victor, don't get crumbs all over the carpet."

The door suddenly burst open, and William darted in, grinning from ear to ear. "Nell! Victor! We've done it!"

"Done what? What was so important that you were late to tea?" Nell demanded, glowering.

"We've found them!"

The anger vanished from Nell's face. "Found them?" she repeated. "Found the Everglots?"

"You know where they are?" Victor added, feeling a rush of hope.

William nodded, holding up a piece of paper. "One of our men finally tracked them down. They're residing in the countryside, at some old estate none of them have been to in years. We actually passed it by before, it's been closed so long, but this fellow thought it was worth a look – and there they were!"

"Fantastic!" Nell cheered, now smiling just as brightly as her husband. "It's about time they turned up! Hopefully we can convince them that Victor's not going to have another episode. You'd better not, anyway," she added, glaring at her son.

"I have no intentions of marrying any more corpses by accident," Victor said, massaging his forehead.

"I'd be more inclined to believe that if you were taking your therapy seriously."

"I don't _need_ therapy, Mother. I've told you – Emily's rising was special circumstances. And I would gladly never speak a word about her again in your presence if you'd just drop the matter."

"Hmph," Nell said again. "We'll see how you do with the Everglots first." She turned back to her husband. "How soon can we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," William said. "I've already told Harland to be ready to go right after breakfast."

"I knew I kept you around for a reason," Nell said, pleased. "Let's finish our tea, and then we can pack."

* * *

The next morning, they were off, headed for one of the Everglots's ancient summer homes. The trip was long and boring, with not much in the way of scenery, conversation, or amusement. Victor spent most of it staring out the window, excitement and worry warring within him. He was going to see Victoria again! At least, if the Everglots were open to visitors. . . . But surely they still needed his parents' funds to stay solvent! Then again, if they hadn't contacted them by now. . . . But Victoria would be happy to see him! She'd help argue their case! Of course, God only knew if the elder Everglots would listen to their daughter. . . . But at least they knew that the dead rising had actually happened! Yes, and what good did that do him? What if they were ready to declare him one of the devil's own as well? No, he couldn't think about that. He had to stay positive – had to concentrate on the fact that he and Victoria would soon be reunited. But would he be allowed to marry her?

Finally, after five long days on the road (broken up by short meals and nights at inns), they arrived at the house. Victor was surprised to see how modest it was – he'd expected a grand, sprawling estate along the lines of the Everglot mansion in Burtonsville. This place was only a quarter of the size, if that. It also desperately required numerous repairs and quite a bit of landscaping – at the very least, it needed a new coat of paint. Nevertheless, seeing the building made Victor's heart lift. Now was the moment of truth. Now he'd discover if a marriage between his family and the Everglots was indeed still in the cards.

Nell glared at him over her fan as they parked outside the entrance. "Don't you dare ruin this for us again," she warned him. "Stand up straight, don't fiddle with your tie, and don't say a word unless you're spoken to, got it?"

"Yes Mother," Victor nodded.

"Good." The three exited the carriage and ascended the front steps. Nell gave the bellpull a hearty yank while Victor and William stood to the side. Victor clasped his hands behind him to stop them from fidgeting. _Please, please. . . ._

The door opened, revealing the familiar figure of the Everglots' butler, Emil. He frowned at them for a moment, nose in the air – then his eyes went wide as he registered who exactly was standing on the doorstep. "What – what are you–"

"Hello, my good man," William said, pouring on whatever charm he possessed. "Do you think we could talk to your employers for a bit? We've got some business that needs ironing out, heh heh."

"Ah – I'll – I'll announce you," Emil stammered, staring at them. Victor noticed the man's eyes kept flicking back toward him – like the butler was especially baffled to see him standing there. He couldn't figure out why, though. "The Lord and Lady are, um, in the drawing room. . .do you have a card?" Emil added, managing to regain a bit of his snooty air.

"Yes, right here," William said, pulling one out and handing it over. "Had them made up just the other week."

"Very good. Do come in." Emil stepped aside, allowing them into the small room that passed for an entrance hall. They waited in a cluster near the door as Emil pattered down to the drawing room, card in hand.

Moments later, there was a loud "_Who?_" that could only have come from Finis Everglot. The lord and lady themselves appeared shortly afterward, gaping at the Van Dorts in shock. Victor noticed once again that they seemed particularly surprised to see him. "What – what are _you_ doing here?" Finis demanded.

"We just wanted to talk to you, Lord Everglot," William said, putting on his brightest smile. "About the wedding?"

"Wedding?" Maudeline repeated, arching an eyebrow.

"You _did_ promise your daughter to our son," William pointed out, still smiling. "Maybe you forgot when you, ah, left?"

Something about that seemed to help the Everglots regain their wits. They looked at each other, then straightened to their full heights (not that it helped in Finis's case). "We didn't _forget_," Maudeline replied icily, glaring down her nose at the Van Dorts. "The fact that you think we would still want to join your family to ours after what your son did–"

"That's all over and done with, Lady Everglot, we swear," Nell cut in. "We've had all the best doctors in to have a word with him. He won't be going near any cemeteries to have a chat with the inhabitants. Or digging anyone up and insisting he or she wanted to come to tea." Victor started to say something, only to be whacked in the stomach by her fan. "He'll be just as normal as anyone else."

"Doctors? You'd have been better off locking him in the basement and throwing away the key!" Finis boomed, glowering at Victor. "I'm tempted to have Emil fetch me musket!"

"Shall I, sir?" Emil said, coming as close to smiling as Victor had ever seen.

"Now, now, let's talk like civilized people, shall we?" William said, holding up a hand. "No need for violence. We know our son's gone through a bad patch–"

"I never knew the middle class to be one for _understatement_ before," Maudeline snapped. "Your son nearly drove my husband and I out of our minds with terror. I have never been so frightened in my life."

"I'm sure he's sorry," Nell said, with a significant look at Victor.

"I am indeed," Victor nodded, glad for the chance to speak up at last. "I never m-meant for you two to get in the middle of that. Nor did I intend to scare everyone out of their wits. I–" He swallowed. "I thought they'd all appear right in the church, you see. Not s-scattered throughout the town."

"Ugh, Victor, don't bring up that mess again," Nell said, shaking her head. "Lord and Lady Everglot don't need to be reminded of your sickness. We're terribly sorry for his behavior," she added toward the Everglots. "Hadn't the slightest idea he was like that. He's always been a little odd, granted, but I always thought it was because he was _terrified_ of everything. Wet his combinations regularly when he was a boy."

"You mentioned," Maudeline said, wrinkling her nose. Victor blushed and lowered his eyes to the floor. Why did his mother have to bring that up?

"Yes, well – as we said, he's getting help for his problems," Nell continued, undaunted. "He won't bother you with talk about corpses and brides and all that nonsense anymore, will he?"

"Never," Victor promised. "Not a word."

"That won't stop us from thinking about what he did!" Finis said, stabbing a finger at them. "We left that village to try and get away from such horrible memories! We've lost a house thanks to you, Master Van Dort – _and_ we only just kept our butler! The only reason he agreed to stay in our employ was because we were leaving!"

"Yes," Emil nodded, narrowing his eyes at Victor. "Your insistence on dragging the dead out of their graves nearly cost me a very good position."

"I didn't mean to!" Victor held up his hands. "Please, Lord and Lady Everglot, you've g-got to believe that I'm sorry! That I never wanted to h-hurt anyone in any way!"

"That's not what we've heard Pastor Galswells saying," Finis retorted. "He declared you damned."

"I – I – it won't happen again, I assure you. I'll never speak of it in front of you, never tell another soul. . . ."

"That won't change the past, will it? Won't change the fact that you ruined a perfectly good reception with your – activities!"

Victor felt a flicker of anger. "I don't think any reception with a groom that only married your daughter to get her nonexistent fortune is good," he replied, mentally daring them to defend making Victoria marry Lord Barkis.

Maudeline sighed. "Yes, our daughter told us about him," she admitted, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Trying to make himself rich at _our_ expense. . .idiot. We'll allow that _that_ situation wasn't your fault." She glared hard at Victor. "But don't think that we're willing to forgive you for anything else! You made us look like fools, and you caused the ruin of our old manor! We can never return to Burtonsville – nor would we want to, after what you've done!"

"Nobody says you have to," William said in his most soothing tone of voice. "We can work out all the details right here. We don't mind staying for a while, do we Nell?"

"Not at all," Nell simpered on command. "It's a lovely estate you have here. Just smashing."

"Yes," William nodded. "I'm sure we can come to some agreement. I've plenty to convince you with," he added temptingly.

"No, you don't," Finis said, folding his arms as best he could across his broad body. "It's ridiculous for you to think that we'd want your tainted family joined to ours in any manner."

"And besides," Maudeline added, tone cold and final, "you're too late. Our daughter is already married."


	5. Awkward Conversation Quota Fulfilled

Chapter 5

March 17th, 1875

Sandford, England

4:21 P.M.

A young man with sandy brown hair opened the door in response to Victor's knock. "Hello, sir," he said, all politeness. "May I help you?"

"Yes," Victor replied, trying to look and sound as calm as possible despite his jittery nerves. "I was hoping to v-visit your employers today, if I may. I've got a card – well, it's my f-father's card. . . ." He handed it over. "M-may I come in?"

The young man examined the card. "I do believe Mr. and Mrs. White are accepting calls," he said, stepping aside so Victor could enter the house. "If you could just wait a moment–"

"Ah, Alan! Who's this at the door?"

Both Victor and the young man turned as another man appeared on the scene. This one was rather older, with a frizz of curly grey hair bordering his head like a halo. He also sported a droopy grey mustache rather like Victor's father's, though he lacked William's carefully curled whiskers. He smiled at Victor, extending a hand. "Christopher White at your service, my good man."

"He's the son of a Mr. William Van Dort, sir," Alan said as Victor accepted the handshake.

Mr. White froze. "Son of – you're – Victor?" he stammered, blinking.

"Yes, sir," Victor replied, dropping his hand. "I know you must not have been expecting to see me, but – um – I just learned of your – your m-m-marriage to–"

"You're here to see Victoria," Mr. White said, tone surprisingly understanding for someone who'd just realized he was playing host to his wife's former fiancé. "Well then – Alan, take our guest to the sitting room while I get my wife. And make some tea, will you? I think we'll need it."

"Very good, sir," Alan said before nodding at Victor. "If you could follow me. . . ."

The sitting room proved to be just down the hall. Although informed that he could take a seat if he liked, Victor chose to remain standing. He gripped his tie tight in both hands as the manservant left to fetch the tea, trying to ignore his stomach twisting itself into a pretzel. What was he doing here? Why was he putting himself through this torture? Shouldn't he just leave – run out the front door and pretend none of this had ever happened?

But he couldn't. He needed to see Victoria again. He needed to hear the story from her lips. She'd be able to explain things better than her parents ever could. And – well – he had to make sure she was all right. That she was happy. Just from first impressions, Mr. White seemed ten times a better husband for her than Lord Barkis, but – Victor knew he wouldn't feel truly satisfied until he'd seen her in person.

He waited, twisting his tie in his hands and occasionally rocking back and forth on his heels, for what seemed an eternity. At last Alan reappeared, carrying a fully-loaded tea tray. And trailing behind him was Victoria, looking as lovely as ever in a cheerful yellow-striped dress. She stared at Victor, putting a hand to her mouth. "Victor?" she whispered.

"Hello, Victoria – ah, M-Mrs. White," Victor corrected himself. It surely wasn't proper to call her by her first name now that she was married.

Victoria shook her head, still staring at him. "No, please, Victoria's fine. . . ." She walked over to him, looking him up and down. "I – I never thought I'd see you again. . . ."

"That's obvious," Victor said, then winced. "Oh, d-do forgive me, I didn't mean – it's been a distressing day, and I'm not–"

"You're forgiven," Victoria told him. "I know that my being Mrs. White must. . .when did you get here? Oh, do sit down, I shouldn't keep you standing. . . ."

"Just today," Victor said, waiting until Victoria had taken a seat on the sofa to lower himself into a chair. "My parents have been looking for yours for over a month. We finally found them here, and they told us that y-you. . . ." He looked around. "Where's your h-husband?"

"He wasn't sure if he should come in," Victoria said, as Alan set out plates, cups, and saucers. "He thought it might be too awkward for you."

"Oh. I – I'd rather like to meet him, honestly. See w-what sort of man he is. . . ."

Victoria nodded. "Alan, tell Christopher he's welcome to tea," she said. As Alan left to deliver the message, she picked up the teapot. "Would you like a cup?"

"Yes, thank you," Victor said. He watched her pour. "This is a nice house you have here," he added, feeling he ought to make an attempt at pleasant conversation.

Victoria gave him a weak smile. "It's not as big as I'm used to, but I don't mind. It's much cozier than home." She handed him the teacup. "You'll have to add the cream and sugar yourself, I'm afraid. I don't know how you take it."

"That's fine." Victor stared down into the brown depths of the tea, wondering how he wanted to start. "Victoria–"

His thought was cut off by the arrival of Mr. White. "I heard I was wanted," he said, taking a seat next to Victoria. He frowned at Victor. "You're sure you're all right with me being here?"

Victor looked up at him. There was genuine concern for Victor's well-being in those dark eyes. "I wanted to meet you," he said. "And besides, you can tell me your side of the story. . .why you and V-Victoria. . . ." He turned his gaze back to his teacup, suddenly unable to look at them sitting together. "Victoria, why – why?"

Victoria took a deep breath. "Victor – I thought you were dead."

Victor's head jerked up. "What – _dead_?" he repeated, baffled. "Why did you think–"

"When we last got news from Burtonsville, it was all about Pastor Galswells saying you were – damned," Victoria said, wringing her hands. "We didn't realize he meant while you were still alive."

It all clicked in Victor's mind – why everyone he'd met today had looked at him with such surprise. They genuinely _hadn't_ been expecting to see him, today or ever again. "You thought I'd committed suicide," he said. It was probably the height of gauche behavior to mention that at tea, but he had to get it out in the open.

Victoria nodded. "I thought you'd gone after Emily."

"You did?"

Victoria nodded again, then sighed. "I should start at the beginning," she said, pouring tea for her husband. "When I went to talk to my parents that night, they were frantic. The arrival of the dead in our house had frightened them even worse than I'd imagined. They were calling the town the – the gateway to Hell and other horrible names. I tried to calm them down, to explain things, but they wouldn't listen to me. They packed up whatever they could carry and forced me and Hildegarde to come with them. We only stayed in the village long enough to find Emil and convince him to join our flight. Then we were off and away, before I could even think of escape. My parents brought us here because our family hasn't been to this estate in ages – they thought it would be a good place to hide."

"It was," Victor said. "My parents nearly passed the place over, but one of the men they hired thought it was worth checking."

"My parents won't be happy about that – they did everything they could with what little they had to make sure your family couldn't find us," Victoria said, shaking her head. "They were determined that we have nothing more to do with Van Dorts. Almost before we were settled in, they started searching for another husband for me." She laughed, though without much humor. "_I_ ended up being the one to argue that I needed to mourn Lord Barkis's death. My parents correctly suspected I was just trying to buy time and told me that, since his death occurred the same day as our wedding _and_ I obviously hadn't wanted to marry him in the first place, they'd ignore propriety just this once. I think the story they've told people is that the marriage was annulled, if they've mentioned it at all."

Victor nodded. That made sense so far. "So, ah, w-when did you meet Mr. White?"

"Actually, it's sort of amusing – I met her while she was trying to escape back to you," Mr. White said, with a very awkward chuckle.

"I made a number of attempts to get back to Burtonsville in our first two weeks here," Victoria explained, turning faintly pink. "I had no doubt you were trying to find me, and I wanted so much to be with you. . . . I was never successful, of course. The day I met Christopher was ironically the farthest I'd ever gotten."

"I found her struggling along the road in the pouring rain – poor dear looked like a drowned kitten," Mr. White said. "I stopped to offer her a lift, and she asked me if I was heading to Burtonsville. I told her I wasn't, and that it would be five days' ride even if I was – I couldn't take her that far without a chaperone. She started crying, and I couldn't help getting down to comfort her."

"He was so kind to me," Victoria said, giving Mr. White a look of quiet affection. Victor couldn't help feeling a pang at seeing her direct that smile at someone else. Worse still was seeing Mr. White return it. "It felt like he was the only one, after Hildegarde, who actually listened to me. I explained my situation, and he offered to help me however he could."

"Yes, shame that butler of your parents' showed up to ruin the moment," Mr. White said, rolling his eyes. "That man has the unique ability to look down his nose at _anyone_, regardless of their station."

Victor had to agree. "So – you became friends, then?"

Victoria nodded. "And he a potential suitor, at least in my parents' eyes. While Mother lectured me for trying to run away yet again, Father asked him about his prospects."

"I told him about them mostly to be polite," Mr. White said. "I didn't expect our acquaintance to really go anywhere. After all, I thought I would be helping her get back to Burtonsville and you." He took a sip of his tea. "Though I won't lie to you, Master Van Dort – I had some interest in her even then. Her bravery in trying to get back, despite all the obstacles in her path. . .well, you don't find that in many women. And even in the mud and rain, she was remarkably pretty. If I hadn't also seen how determined she was to find you, well. . . ." He sighed. "I know it probably hurts to hear that, but – I feel you deserve to know the entire truth."

"Thank you – I appreciate it," Victor said. It did indeed hurt, but it was good to know that Victoria had married someone who truly cared for her. He himself was warming to Mr. White, despite the circumstances – the man was very amiable. "So when did things take a d-different turn?"

"Well, Christopher called on us for the next few days, and we continued growing our little friendship," Victoria said, folding her hands in her lap. "He and I talked about ways we could convince my parents to let him take me back to Burtonsville, and what I could do when I found you. And then. . .well, we heard about Pastor Galswells calling you a damned soul. The way he was talking, we all thought you'd – left this world." She looked down, fidgeting with her skirts. "I spent the rest of that day crying."

"I'm sorry," Victor said, not really knowing why he was apologizing but feeling he ought to.

"It's not your fault," Victoria said, sighing as she lifted her head. "We should have asked more questions. I shouldn't have doubted you like I did. But, as it was, my parents continued evaluating suitors, Christopher continued to visit. . .and. . . ." She moved a little closer to her husband, looking like she was just barely resisting the urge to lean her head against his shoulder. "I found myself warming to him. More than I already was, that is. He was always so kind and gentle. . .comforted me in my distress, listened to my opinions, actually talked _to_ me rather than _at_ me like some of the others Mother and Father brought around. . .and my parents liked him too. He had just enough money for them to be satisfied."

"I'm ex-military," Mr. White explained. "I get a healthy pension from the Crown. And I have a small estate which brings in an extra hundred or so a year. I'm sure it doesn't match what your father makes with his canned fish, but it was enough for the Everglots to say yes when I proposed."

"You understand, don't you?" Victoria asked, leaning forward and twisting her hands together. "I thought you were gone – lost to me forever. And Christopher. . .he and I. . .we can talk, we can laugh. . .he's my dearest friend on top of being my husband. But I never meant to hurt you like this, truly I didn't."

"I do understand," Victor said, thinking about a certain alley Below where he'd dropped a sprig of flowers and made the decision to marry a corpse bride. "I nearly hurt you in the same way. But I have to ask why you thought I would k-kill myself. Why I would go after Emily."

Victoria smiled rather sadly. "Well. . .I think the fact that you understand what happened between me and Christopher explains that."

"Beg pardon?"

"You loved her," Victoria said, so matter-of-factly it was like she was stating that the sun rose in the morning. "I could tell, Victor. The way you described her dancing, the way you talked about that duet you shared. . .the way you said her vows without a single mistake. It couldn't be anything but love." She fixed the wrinkles she'd made in her skirt. "Have you ever wondered why I didn't say anything in the church? Why it was Emily who ended up speaking out against the wedding? Because I saw the look in your eyes, heard the warmth in your voice. You were _happy_, Victor. Everyone could tell. I couldn't bear to interrupt if she was the one you truly wanted. If she was the one who made you happy."

Victor didn't know what to say. He wanted to protest, wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he always had – but she was right. He _would_ have been happy marrying Emily. He had loved her too – her easy smile, her graceful dancing, her enthusiasm for music. Even now the thought of her warmed his heart. And when she'd hesitated during their vows, he'd been prepared to drink the poison anyway – to give up his life without a second thought. "I – I thought I'd lost you," he finally said. It was the only explanation he could give.

Victoria nodded. "And I thought you must have considered me lost again. I never doubted that you loved me, Victor. Your words in my bedroom proved that. I just – I doubted if you really loved me more than Emily." She twisted her hands together again. "After all, you were prepared to keep your promise to her even after we had been reunited."

That was a very good point. "She'd lost everything in her life," Victor whispered. "I just – I wanted her to know I wouldn't abandon her too."

"I know," Victoria said. "And I was so grateful that she was willing to let you go – but I was also prepared to give you up if that was what you both wanted. I loved you, and I wanted you to be happy. Even with another woman."

Why did her being understanding hurt so much? Victor almost would have preferred it if she'd been jealous or angry. That he had a better idea how to deal with. "Maybe it wouldn't have worked out anyway," he mumbled, unable to look at her. "Maybe her memory would have driven a wedge between us."

"Perhaps," Victoria allowed. "I don't know. I'd like to think we could have been happy together. I wouldn't have tried to get back to you so many times if I didn't. But. . . ." She dropped her eyes again. "But I'm happy with Christopher too. I can't say I'm sorry to have married him."

"I wouldn't want you to," Victor said, lifting his head. "Victoria, I feel the same – I love you, and I want you to be happy. Even with another man." He managed a smile for Mr. White. "And the one you found seems to be much, much better than Lord Barkis."

"I don't think that's a very tall order," Mr. White said with a disgusted snort. "Most anyone would be better than a thieving murderer."

"True, but. . .you really do love her, don't you?" Victor said.

Mr. White gave Victoria another one of those affectionate smiles, taking her hand in his. "I do," he said. "She's a remarkable young woman. Well bred, intelligent, and willing to speak her mind and do what's right. Very hard not to fall in love with someone like that." He turned back to Victor with an apologetic grimace. "I never meant to steal her from you, though. I swear, if I'd had the slightest inkling you were alive. . . ."

"I believe you," Victor said. "And it's h-hardly stealing if the other party thinks I'm dead, right?"

"Even still, I can't help feeling guilty about the whole business."

"Please don't. I can't say I'm precisely happy with how things turned out, but – it's comforting to know Victoria has found someone who loves her. And whom she loves in return." Victor let out a deep sigh, feeling rather worn out all of a sudden. "I should go. I'm imposing on you, I'm sure."

"Hardly," Victoria told him. "I'm sorry for putting you through this. It's such a betrayal, I know. . . ." She trailed off, staring at her hands. "I wish this could end happily for all of us."

Victor tried another smile. "It might still. At least you're happy. You are, right?"

Victoria looked at Mr. White and grinned. "I am quite content with him, yes," she admitted, squeezing her husband's hand.

"Then that's all I need to know." Victor rose. "Do forgive me for dropping in so unexpectedly."

"Not at all," Victoria said. "I'm glad to see you alive and well. Even if it is under such awkward circumstances." She stood and extended her hand. "If you ever need someone to talk to, please don't hesitate to write."

Victor wasn't sure how comfortable he'd feel writing to his now-married ex-fiancee, but he was glad of the offer nonetheless. At least he knew that if he discussed the Land of the Dead and Emily with Victoria, she would believe him. "Thank you. I wish you both every happiness."

"And we wish you all the best of luck," Mr. White replied, standing and shaking Victor's hand as well. "I'll treat her right. You can be sure of that."

"I am. Thank you." Victor looked between them. "Well then – I'll b-be on my way."

"Shall I call Alan to show you out?" Victoria asked.

"I can find my own way, thank you. Good day."

With that, Victor turned and left the room. _Well – that should fulfill my awkward conversation quota for the rest of the year,_ he thought, trudging his way back to the front door. _I can't believe. . .no, I can believe it. I was willing to marry someone else – why shouldn't she be? And they do look happy together. That's what I want most of all, right? For her to be happy?_ He sighed. _I would have preferred that she be happy with _me_, but. . ._ .

"Sir?" Victor looked up to see Alan standing nearby, frowning at him. "Are you all right?"

Victor considered the question. "I could be a lot worse," he decided on. "Have a good day, Alan."

Alan gave him a smile. "Thank you. You as well, Master Van Dort."

Victor thought about the scene that was surely waiting for him back at the Everglots' house and grimaced. "I'm not sure that's possible, but thank you just the same."


	6. Second Chance?

Chapter 6

March 17th, 1875

Sandford, England

7:14 P.M.

The carriage was eerily silent as the Van Dorts started their journey back to Burtonsville. Victor had thought his parents – or at least, his mother – would be going on and on about Victoria getting married to someone else, but they weren't saying a word. Instead, they were just sitting there, glaring at him. Victor was almost starting to wish they'd yell at him. Anything would be better than those unrelenting stares.

He tried to ignore them, looking out the window at the passing fields. He didn't know what they expected from him. Should he say something? What could he possibly say? "I'm sorry Victoria's married to someone else, but she thought I was dead?" "She's happy with Mr. White now and I can't change that?" "The Everglots would have never let me marry her anyway?" He sighed. And he'd thought his conversation with Victoria had been awkward.

Nell finally broke the silence. "You. Have ruined. Our lives."

"Mother–"

"The Everglots were once related to grand dukes! They were the cream of the social crop! If we'd had their name connected to our own, we would have had everything one could ask for! Now we're going to be known throughout eternity as the people who threw away a marriage to one of the best noble families in England!" She stabbed her fan at Victor's face, nearly hitting his nose. "All because _you_ decided a corpse would be a better bride than a living woman!"

"This is not going to be good for business, Victor," William added, with a hardness in his voice Victor had never heard before. "We have a reputation to uphold. It's bad enough we've lost a connection with the nobility. If people hear about your madness, it might cause them to stop buying our products. And then where would we be?" He shook his head. "I'm very disappointed in you, son."

"Father, I have no intention of spreading this story any further than necessary," Victor said. "I promise you, I don't want to be known as a m-madman either. You needn't worry."

"Poppycock," Nell snapped. "Eight psychiatrists, and you still believe the dead can walk. If you were really interested in getting well, Victor, you'd forget that 'corpse bride' ever existed."

Victor bristled. How could his mother say such a thing? Especially after the day he'd just had? "I'm not going to do that, Mother. I can promise not to talk about her to others, but I'm not going to forget her. She deserves to be remembered."

"No she doesn't! She was nothing but a – a sick hallucination you had! If you cared about us at all, you'd wipe her from your mind! Start fresh so we might have _some_ chance of making a decent marriage with you!"

"Mother, she existed! She was _murdered_! I helped set her free! It would be beyond disrespectful for me to pretend she never was!" Victor clasped his hands in front of his face. "Why can't you be satisfied with me being quiet? Why can't I remember in peace?"

"Because we don't want you to have a relapse!" Nell shouted, face turning red. "The last thing I want is to come home one day and find my sitting room filled with dead bodies, with you in the middle chatting away!"

"I wouldn't do that!"

"Wouldn't you? You had no compunction against doing it to the Everglots, it seems." Nell rolled her eyes. "Talking about dancing bones and eyes in soup. . .perhaps it's for the best you're not marrying their daughter, you seem to addle everyone you come into contact with lately!"

"We just want you to make a good marriage and become – well – a real person, Victor," William said, voice softer now. "And you can't do that as long as you hold onto these fantasies."

"That's right!" Nell agreed, snapping her fan open again. "All this nonsense about walking dead and lands below – it won't do, Victor, it just won't!"

Victor sighed and looked back out the window. It was no use arguing – once his mother made up her mind, there was no hope of changing it. But this wasn't something he was going to back down on. Emily's memory was too important.

Emily. . . .

_Where is she now?_ Victor wondered, as the silence and the glaring resumed. _What happened, exactly, when I set her free? Did she go somewhere else when she burst into butterflies? Or was that just a fancy way of returning to the Land of the Dead? And if it was the latter. . ._

_Could I possibly see her again?_

A pleasant, runny warmth flowed into his chest at that thought. Seeing Emily again. . .seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, feeling her arms wrap around him. . .he'd like that. He missed her – that was part of the reason he was clinging to her memory. And he wanted to make sure she was all right. She'd seemed happy enough that night in the church, but he wanted to be certain of it. Had his near-marriage to her truly satisfied her need to be a bride? Or was she still waiting for someone to ask for her hand?

And – if she was still waiting – was there a chance she would take him back?

For a moment, Victor was surprised with himself. Was he really thinking of proposing marriage to her again? That had worked out so well for him the last time. . . . And if anything was going to convince his parents that he was indeed a madman, that would be it.

But then again. . .what was left for him up here? Just like before, Victoria was married – and this time, she wouldn't be slipping into any churches in an attempt to escape from her horrid new husband. She was truly lost to him forever now. And his parents would probably like nothing more than for their "insane" son to disappear off the face of the earth. He had no friends in town, nothing really holding him to this plane of existence. And he knew now that death was nothing to fear. In fact, it was practically to be welcomed. Below was color and enthusiasm and excitement. He had no doubts his friends Downstairs would welcome him back with open arms. He caught himself smiling as he pictured Mrs. Plum fussing over his eating habits, or Bonejangles trying to convince him to play with the Bone Boys, or Scraps sitting by his feet, begging for attention. It would be nice to feel so accepted, so loved. And if he could be with Emily. . . .

He could remember how eager he'd been to marry her before Victoria's arrival in the church. Death had not seemed at all frightening with her by his side. He could picture their – afterlives? – together still. Sharing a coffin at night. . .welcoming new arrivals. . .playing with Scraps. . .talking with Maggot and Black Widow. . .performing more piano duets. . .and on their anniversaries, visiting the Land of the Living for a night so they could share a dance in the moonlight. They'd be happy together, he was sure of it. And he wouldn't have to deal with anyone telling him he was mad, or that the dead couldn't rise, ever again. The afterlife would be – maybe not peaceful. The dead seemed to enjoy their parties far too much for that. But it would be full of fun, companionship, and joy. And he'd have someone he loved, and who loved him in return, by his side for the rest of eternity.

He nodded to himself, his mind made up. Once they got home, he'd go back to the woods and look for Emily's hand. And then he'd do his best to convince her they deserved a second chance.

* * *

After what felt like an eternity, they finally arrived back in Burtonsville. Victor weathered the by-now familiar glowers of the townspeople, suffered through a most awkward tea with his parents (during which they discussed getting in yet _another_ doctor), then managed to slip away and head for the woods. He was very careful not to let anyone see him – if the town crier caught wind of what he was doing, everyone in the village would probably want to burn him at the stake. Not that Victor cared what they thought of him anymore, but it was better not to invite trouble.

He made it over the bridge and into the forest without a hitch, to his relief. Moments later, he was walking the old path that led to Emily's final resting place. His heart beat faster as he neared it. How would he greet her? What would he say? What would _she_ say? Would she be able to take him down to the Land of the Dead again? Was there a way for him to finalize his vows to her without visiting the Land of the Living? Or, if they had to go back Upstairs, did they have to do it in the church?

Vows! He'd forgotten the ring! Did that matter? Would merely saying the words above her grave do the trick? Or did he have to have a ring to slip on her finger? Should he go back and get it? _No – if I go back, there's too much chance of getting caught,_ he said to himself, picking his way across the stream. _I've got to try it without first. Oh, I wish I'd thought of that sooner. . . . Still, maybe it's not necessary. We'll see, won't we?_

He climbed up through the old graveyard and looked around. Now, where – aha! There was the stump he'd pretended was Lord Everglot! And nearby, the old branches he'd used as a stand-in for Lady Everglot! He was right where he needed to be. Victor grinned. "Emily?" he called. "Emily, I'm back!"

No answer. Well, it was silly to expect one just yet. He needed to wake her up first. He turned around slowly, orienting himself. The stump. . .the branches. . .the tall, tall trees where the ravens had perched. . .the old oak tree. . .and underneath that, some withered vines curling upward, and –

And. . .

Victor stared. There were just a few dead plant stalks beneath the twisted trunk of the ancient oak. That was it. No sign of a reaching hand at all.

Victor spun around, his head snapping from side to side. Was he in the wrong spot? No, he recognized all of this! It was all as it should be, except for Emily's hand! He fell to his knees and scrabbled through the dirt at the base of the tree. There wasn't even a hint that Emily had been there at all. _But – but that's not right!_ his mind protested._ This is where she died! Her hand should still be here! Unless someone's dug her up, or hidden it back under the earth, or–_

_Or if it was only reaching out when she was looking for a husband._

Victor paused, looking down at what he supposed was Emily's grave. He'd always considered it a bit odd that her hand had been sticking up like that. Who buried someone with their hand reaching out to passers-by? It seemed quite sloppy, and not likely to happen even if someone – like a vicious murderer eager to get out of town – had been in a rush. Surely, if her hand had decayed above ground, someone else would have found her first? Or an animal would have made off with the errant limb as a snack? Granted, by the time he accidentally proposed, her hand had been so wracked by the elements it didn't even look that much like a hand anymore, but still. . .it hadn't made a lot of sense to him.

Thinking about it now, though. . .he knew magic was real. If being dragged down to the afterlife hadn't proved its existence, being transported back to the Land of the Living via raven egg certainly had. And Bonejangles had said in his song that "she made a vow lying under that tree, that she'd wait for her true love to come set her free." Maybe – maybe her vow had been a kind of magic. A contract of sorts, allowing her to rise again once she received the proposal she so hoped for. And since it was hard to propose to empty earth, the magic had made her hand protrude, protecting it from being destroyed or disturbed until the right person came along and slipped a ring on her finger. It seemed logical, in a twisted sort of way. . . .

_But why is it gone now?_ part of his mind objected. _She never got married! Our wedding proved to be null and void! Shouldn't she still be waiting?_

The song echoed through his skull again. "Come set her free. . . ." She hadn't been waiting for a husband, exactly. She'd been waiting for someone to free her. Maybe she hadn't realized that when she'd said the words, but. . . . In the church, she hadn't insisted he keep his promise to marry her, even when he'd offered. She'd said he'd fulfilled it already – he'd set her free. And Elder Gutknecht had told him much the same – he'd helped her see her murder avenged, and her murderer brought to justice. And – he'd shown her that love really existed? How had he done that? He'd spent most of their time together running from her or insulting her!

But. . .he'd apologized for that. He'd shared a duet with her – bared his soul to her through his music. And he'd shown that he was willing to give up his life for her. That he wouldn't abandon her like Barkis had. Not to mention he'd let her walk to the altar as a bride, even if she didn't walk away someone's wife. He'd given her everything she'd truly wanted, hadn't he? A chance to love and be loved again, even briefly. And the opportunity to ensure that what had happened to her would not happen to another. He hadn't just set her free from her vow – he'd set her free from her doubts, her fears, her past. So when she'd turned into butterflies. . . .

They hadn't been a fancy way of returning to the Land of the Dead. Elder Gutknecht would have told him if that were the case. No, when he'd set her free, her soul had clearly gone someplace else. Heaven, maybe? Or maybe she'd become a part of nature. Maybe a sliver of her soul was in every blue butterfly she'd dissolved into, free to wander wherever she wanted, free to see the world. He liked that thought. Either way, she'd left behind anything resembling a mortal body and mortal cares. Which included the need for a husband.

The need for him.

He sighed and stood up, brushing the dirt off his pants. He knew he could still technically go ahead with his plan. Killing himself would bring him back to his other friends Downstairs. But – it all felt rather hollow now that he knew he wouldn't see Emily again. And worse, he no longer had any guarantee the other people he cared about would be down there either. Maybe Mrs. Plum or Bonejangles or Scraps had passed on as well. Or if they hadn't yet, they would. He didn't want to watch his friends fade away around him, not knowing where they were going. Not knowing if or when it would happen to him. _I wish that explanation had been for mortal ears, Elder Gutknecht,_ he thought. _I could really use one._

He looked around the clearing once more, then up at the old oak tree. "I don't know if you can hear me," he said softly, "but I just want you to know that – that I really do hope you're happy, Emily. Elder Gutknecht told me you were, and I suppose he would know, but. . .I would have preferred hearing it from you." He sighed again, then smiled. "Wherever you are, whatever you are – I wish you joy, and peace. I want you to rest easy knowing that I will _never_ forget you. No matter what my mother says. I will cherish our time together always. And I think Victoria won't ever forget you either. She's sorry, by the way, for thinking you were evil once. I'm sure you understand." He reached out and laid a hand on the rough bark. "I love you, Emily. Be happy, wherever you are. And know that you will never be forgotten."

With that, he turned and hurried away, eager to put some distance between himself and the grave. Because if her spirit did linger around there in some form –

He didn't want her to see him cry.


	7. Off On A New Adventure

Chapter 7

March 29th, 1875

Burtonsville, England

5:42 P.M.

"Master Van Dort?"

Victor looked up from his sketchbook to see Barry standing in his doorway. "Your parents request your presence in the east drawing room," the butler continued. "As soon as possible."

Victor nodded, setting aside his quill. "Tell them I'll be down in a minute."

"Very good." Barry turned and hurried away.

Victor sighed, then looked back at the empty page lying before him. He'd been trying to draw something, but his inspiration seemed to have dried up. No surprise, really. He'd been living under a dark cloud of depression ever since he'd realized he had no chance of being with either of the women he loved. Any activity that wasn't sitting around staring aimlessly at the walls seemed to take more energy than he could muster. All he could think about was how alone he was. He'd tried writing a letter to Victoria, just for someone to talk to, but he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that it wasn't proper to write so familiarly to a married woman. Besides, thinking about her with Christopher still caused an ache in his heart. So instead, he'd retreated inward, hiding away from anything else that could cause him pain. Let the world go on without him. It was obvious he was not needed.

He closed his sketchbook and pushed himself to his feet. It wouldn't do to keep his parents waiting. _I wonder what they want to see me about,_ he thought as he headed 'd left him alone lately, more or less. His mother had insisted on getting one last doctor in, but, as usual, Victor had refused to speak to the man, and she hadn't bothered to force the issue. For the past week, the family had only seen each other at mealtimes, and even then they hadn't talked to each other. Victor was quite happy with this arrangement, to be honest. If his parents wanted to ignore him for the rest of their lives, that was fine by him. It was much better than being lectured or glared at. _I hope they're not going to play at being sympathetic or anything like that now. It's far too late for them to pretend they care._

His parents were sitting on the big couch in the middle of the drawing room when he entered, whispering to each other. Nell was the first to notice him. "There you are," she said. "Have a seat. We've got news."

"News?" Victor repeated, sinking down into an armchair. _Oh God. Don't tell me she's somehow found a new bride for me. I can't take going through another arranged marriage – especially so soon._

William nodded solemnly. "Victor, we're worried about you," he said, leaning forward. "All you've been doing for the past few days is moping about. And you wouldn't let Dr. Zemeckis see you at all. Would it have been so hard to talk to the man?"

"He couldn't have helped me," Victor mumbled, looking at his feet.

"Quite right," Nell said, causing Victor's head to snap up in surprise. "He couldn't have helped you, because you wouldn't have let him. But we think we've found someone who can. Dr. Zemeckis recommended him to us right before he left. Apparently he specializes in stubborn cases like yours."

_Oh lovely. Did my refusal to speak to the last five mean nothing to you? _Victor sighed. "When does he get here?"

"Oh no – _you're_ going to _him_."

_That_ made Victor sit up straight. "What?! You're sending me away?" A cold chill raced down his spine. "Not to – to an a-a-asylum?!" Oh God, not that, anything but that!

"Not an asylum, not really," William said, with a smile he seemed to think was reassuring. "Just a – home away from home. The doctor runs an orphanage which specializes in children with troubled pasts. You're not his usual sort of client, but when we wrote to him, he assured us he could take you on."

"He's something of a miracle worker, according to all the reports," Nell agreed. "I think he's just the person to help you forget this '_corpse bride_' of yours."

Anger bubbled up inside Victor. Did his mother really have to say that like she was trying to get a bad taste out of her mouth? "I'm not going to forget her," he said, voice hard.

"You say that now," Nell said, waving her fan carelessly. "This man will make you see sense. I'm sure of it."

"You need help, Victor," William added, shaking his head. "The way you refuse to let go of this fantasy – it scares me a little. And I'll be honest – I'm still rather concerned about your – taste in women, let's say?"

Victor's jaw nearly hit the floor. "W-what?!" He'd thought _that_ particular topic had been closed just over a month ago! "Father, no! I – I would _n-never_ do anything like that with a c-corpse! I swear to you!"

"Yes, but you also swear that the dead walked the streets and organized a wedding for you. And you've never denied that you were ready to marry the corpse."

"Marry, yes, but not – there was no discussion of a wedding n-night! The very thought of – _that_ – n-never crossed my mind!"

William sighed deeply. "I so wish I could believe that, son. I really do." He smiled again, a hopeful glint in his eye. "But this man – he'll do right by you, I'm sure. He'll wipe all those horrible thoughts of yours right out of your mind. After a few months in his care, I'm sure you'll be a fit member of society again."

"It's already all settled," Nell said, cutting off Victor's protests before they could even begin. "We'll be taking you up to London before the week's out."

"And if I d-don't want to go?" Victor managed to say.

Nell glared at him. "You don't have any choice," she snapped. "You've already ruined my biggest chance at being somebody. I'm not going around with the stigma of having a mad son on top of that."

"Victor, it's all for your own good," William said, like he was speaking to a child. "We want you to be well. We want you to make a good marriage someday."

_Yes – a good marriage you'll arrange for your benefit,_ Victor thought, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair. _All of this is for _your_ own good, not mine!_ "I'm not mad," he said, jaw clenched. "I don't need this."

"Yes you do," Nell shot back. "You're not getting out of it, Victor. And if you even _think_ of running away, we will hunt you down and drag you there by your ear. I don't care if you are an adult – you are getting your head screwed on right whether you like it or not!"

"Don't get all aflutter, dear," William soothed, patting her arm. Looking at Victor, he added, "But she's right. Whatever it takes to get you there, son. We're willing to do it."

Victor believed him. After all, his parents had spent hundreds of pounds and worked around the clock to find the Everglots. Chasing him down wouldn't be even half as hard, especially since he had no idea where he'd go. He looked away, biting his lip. Well – maybe it would be good for him to get out of this house and this village. Away from everyone who hated him, away from all the memories. A change of scenery might help lift his mood. Even if he was stuck getting therapy he didn't need. "All right," he sighed, giving in. "I w-won't make trouble."

Nell smirked in triumph. "Good. We're leaving in two days, so you ought to start getting ready. Be sure to pack your best suits – even if you are mad, you aren't going out in public looking like you're ready for Bedlam."

"Yes, Mother." Victor dragged himself to his feet. "I'll go do that now."

"Oh, don't look so depressed," William told him, grinning. "You might like it there! New place to live, new people to meet – you might make some new friends! And you'll be in very good hands with the doctor."

"Oh yes," Nell nodded. "He's quite respected in the medical community. Does amazing work. If anyone can fix you, it's him."

Victor strongly doubted that, but he didn't dare say so. "Who is he?"

Nell beamed. "Dr. Angus Bumby."

The End


End file.
